


The Request

by gracerene



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Artist Luna Lovegood, Community: hp_goldenage, Cross-Generation Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Older Characters, POV Kingsley Shacklebolt, Past Relationship(s), Permanent Injury, Retirement, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-06 16:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17942852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracerene/pseuds/gracerene
Summary: Prompt C22:Kingsley Shacklebolt is retired from the Ministry and enjoying the peace and quiet. But then the Minister of Magic, Hermione Granger, comes to him with an important mission that she believes only he can undertake. Will he do it?





	The Request

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to the prompter for the lovely inspiration, to the mods for brilliantly running this awesome fest, and to C & F for being the best betas I could ask for! <3

"I know it's asking a lot of you," Hermione said with a rueful smile. "I wouldn't be making this request if I didn't think you were the best person for the job. The only person, really." 

Kingsley looked at her silently for a moment, his mind still processing her request. She looked quite impressive—almost regal—sat behind the large mahogany Minister's desk, the one that Kingsley used to sit behind, once upon a time. Her grey-streaked hair was twisted back into a tasteful chignon, and her expression held just the right amount of sincere apology and straightforward demand. It was strange, seeing this woman he'd known as a child now holding the highest position in the country and thriving there. Of course, she was far from a child now, having just celebrated her fifty-fifth birthday. Truthfully, Kingsley was of the opinion that she was much more suited to the position than he'd ever been. Not for the first time, he found himself grateful for his state of retirement and the peaceful serenity it had brought him. Peace that Minister Granger was asking him to give up, if only temporarily. It wasn't dangerous, what would be required of him, but it would be high-stakes work all the same.

"Yes, I can see that," Kingsley said quietly, running a hand over his beard. Growing it out was one of the first things he'd done after his retirement, and he'd become quite attached to the snow-grey scruff. The thought of shaving it sent a pang of regret through him—it would have to go should he accept her offer. "I can appreciate the predicament you're in, but I can't give you an answer just yet. My sense of duty is certainly compelling me to accept your request, but…."

Hermione's expression softened. "I understand, Kingsley, truly. You've already dedicated decades of your life to the Ministry. You've more than earned a rest. I won't beat around the bush—as Minister, I want you for this. I don't think anybody else will be nearly as effective." She paused before continuing, "But as your friend, I want you to do whatever is best for _you._ There are other options we can explore should you decline." 

The Floo-globe on her desk flared green as a chime echoed throughout the room. "Sorry to interrupt, Minister, but your ten o'clock with the Parisian ambassador started fifteen minutes ago and Nicolás is getting antsy."

"Thank you, Genevieve," Hermione said diplomatically. "Tell him I'll be with him shortly."

The Floo-globe went dark and Hermione's left eye twitched. "Merlin forbid we leave _Nicolás_ waiting," Hermione said with an exasperated sigh. "Nevermind that the only reason we're meeting today is because he forgot to show up to our last appointment."

Kingsley smiled, both in commiseration and selfish gladness that he no longer had to deal with tiresome foreign diplomats… for now. "I shall leave you to it," he said as he stood. "Is Monday soon enough for my reply?"

Hermione nodded wearily. "Yes, yes, of course. And regardless of your response, we really should get together sometime soon. I know Ron's been meaning to invite the both of you over for dinner—apparently you're the only one who properly appreciates his raspberry tarts."

Kingsley grinned, his mouth already watering—Ronald Weasley made _excellent_ raspberry tarts. "I suppose my waistline is grateful then, that we don't eat together more often."

Hermione's smile widened into something more genuine. "If only we were all so lucky," she said with a teasing grin, patting at her own waistline, slightly more plump than it was in her youth. "I'll ask Ron to owl you and set something up."

"I look forward to it."

===

The cottage was toasty warm when he stepped through the Floo. He soaked in the comforting warmth as he Banished the ash from his robes with a lazy sweep of his wand. The smell of something meaty and delicious tempted him into the kitchen and he tilted the lid off the pot bubbling merrily on the hob—beef stew, his favourite. He barely resisted the urge to grab a spoon for a little taste—he knew it would be so much better if he waited until dinner and gave the flavours a chance to come together. Instead, he reached for an apple from the large fruit basket on the table, bypassing the more exotic fruits Luna insisted they keep on hand—mangos, star fruit, cherimoya, and, of course, Dirigible plums—for something a little easier to eat by hand. The flesh was crisp and sweet, and he munched happily as he made his way through his home in search of his paramour.

His old wireless was turned on high in the living room, African tribal music—he had no clue _how_ she found these stations—blaring throughout the cottage. The sound was ear-splitting on the ground floor, but he had no doubt that up in the workroom it would be the perfect decibel. Only one way to find out for certain.

Despite his trying day and the difficult decision in front of him, he found himself smiling as he unhurriedly climbed the stairs up to the attic. It was slow going—his knee took a bad hex nearly thirty years ago in an assassination attempt and had never fully recovered—but thankfully it was just the one flight of stairs, and he wasn't in any rush. 

Sure enough, by the time he made it to the top of the stairs, the too-loud music from below had faded into a level much more soothing on his old ears. His grin widened as his gaze landed on Luna, her feet stomping and hips swaying in time to the frenzied beat, wielding her paintbrush with shocking accuracy against her canvas as she moved. How she managed to paint anything at all while dancing as energetically as she did was a mystery to Kingsley, but not one he had any interest in solving. Luna had an untold number of quirks and eccentricities, and as far as Kingsley was concerned, every one of them was a part of what made his young lover so captivating.

"Have you decided?" she asked as the song below came to an end, sliding into something softer and sadder—some kind of mourning music from the sound of it.

"Could have been an Auror with those senses," he teased.

She set her paintbrush down and turned to flash him a warm smile. "It took you at least five minutes to make it up the stairs, love. You weren't exactly stealthy."

He inclined his head in agreement. The injury was old enough now that the remark didn't inspire a sting to his pride the way it once would have. 

"Come sit with me," Luna said, making her way to a sofa in the corner. This room was unapologetically Luna's, and as such, the sofa was a shocking clash of neon purple and eye-searing orange. At one point the combination might have made Kingsley sneer, but now he found it strangely soothing. He sat beside her on the sofa, exhaling softly when she immediately grabbed one of his hands and wrapped both of hers around it. She smiled at him, and he allowed himself a moment to appreciate how lovely she looked in the afternoon light streaming in through the myriad of windows around them. 

Despite technically being an attic, the room had some of the best lighting in the entire house. In fact, that had been the primary factor that had driven them to purchase this cottage two years ago. Luna had fallen in love with the space, claiming the light would be perfect for her to work on the illustrations for her various books on magical creatures. By that point, Kingsley had been hopelessly smitten with his younger lover, and willing to do whatever it took to make her happy. He'd called the realtor immediately and told her they'd take it. He liked the place well enough, and anything that made Luna smile with that giddy, joyful grin of hers was well worth the price. Luna deserved it.

Luna had saved him, had breathed life into him after his retirement and the subsequent premature death of his wife had turned Kingsley's world barren and grey. He'd never expected to find love again, and certainly not with the quirky, dreamy child he barely remembered from the war half a lifetime ago. But just like Minister Granger, Luna had no longer been a child when they'd reconnected five years ago, but a woman fully grown, one who had decades of life and experience under her belt. Her beauty, her compassion, her kindness… none of them were things Kingsley had expected when she'd asked to interview him on the legislation he helped pass as Minister for the protection of magical creatures. Despite being over fifty years old herself, Luna had an eternally youthful spirit, a bright, inquisitive mind and effervescent nature that sung to something in Kingsley's own stodgy breast. She was so very different from his beloved Yara, god rest her soul, but the both of them possessed the same bright essence of the truly good, and Kingsley found himself falling for Luna the way he'd fallen for his wife nearly fifty years earlier. A part of Kingsley still found it remarkable that Luna seemed just as taken with him as he was with her, but she'd made it clear that she knew her own mind, and he respected her enough to trust that when she said she loved him, she meant it.

"So," she began again, looking deep into Kingsley's eyes. "Have you decided if you're going to take on the mission Hermione asked of you?"

Kingsley raised a single eyebrow. "And how did you find out about that?"

She smiled at him serenely. "Oh, I don't know what exactly she requested, but when you said the Minister asked for a meeting, I assumed it was to conscript you back into service."

"Like I said, you could have been an Auror," Kingsley replied proudly. So many people seemed to underestimate Luna, but he knew better than that. She was one of the most observant and intelligent people he'd ever known. 

"But then I wouldn't have nearly enough time to paint," she said simply. "Stop changing the subject."

Kingsley sighed, leaning back against the sofa which was surprisingly comfortable despite its offensive fabric. "No, I haven't decided."

Luna only nodded. "Is it dangerous?"

"Oh, no. Diplomatic, really. I almost wish it was dangerous—it would be so much easier to turn her down and be done with it."

"You and your sense of duty," Luna said fondly. "International?"

Kingsley nodded. "During my tenure as Minister, I formed a lot of strong connections with foreign dignitaries, particularly within the Coalition of African Wizarding Countries. Apparently relations are rather… strained due to recent events. Hermione is hoping appointing me as the British representative for the upcoming treaty talks will help ensure things go well."

"Sounds prestigious."

"It is," Kingsley said with a heavy sigh. "And exhausting. I'd be over there for several months at the very least, involved in the kind of tiresome political manoeuvring I hoped I'd put behind me." Just thinking about it had his knee throbbing and his head aching, even as his pulse raced with a long-forgotten exhilaration. He'd been a politician for years, and though he'd mostly done it because he loved his country and wanted to create a better world, he couldn't deny that he'd also relished the challenge of it. All those machinations were fatiguing, true, but they could also be invigorating in the right circumstances.

Luna smiled knowingly. "Ahh, so you _have_ decided."

"I just said I hadn't!" he protested.

"Yes, but your eyes tell a different story. You're going to say yes." She stood before bending over to press a sweet kiss against his lips. "I must write to Rolf. We've been brainstorming location ideas for my next book. I'd been leaning towards Scandinavia, but it appears Africa just won by a landslide." Luna hummed thoughtfully, her head cocked to one side. "Perhaps I'll finally get to see the elusive Osefanc—they've only ever been sighted in the Sahara, you know."

With that, she was dancing across the room and down the stairs, calling out for her owl, Persephone, so that she could write to her editor. Kingsley blinked after her, still a little stunned by her casual declaration that he'd already made his decision, the easy way in which she adjusted her own plans accordingly, so that they wouldn't have to be too far apart. He hadn't fully processed his thoughts in regards to Hermione's request, but thinking on it now, he realised Luna was, as always, correct—he _had_ already decided to accept. Kingsley knew he could decline, and though a part of him wanted to—the part that had grown used to the quiet peace of retirement—a larger part of him was undeniably curious. He was seventy, not dead, and just because he had a bum knee, it didn't mean he was done living. The years since he and Luna had begun dating had done wonders towards bringing him back to life and reminding him that there was so much left to feel and experience. This new position would be an exciting challenge, one that Kingsley already found himself looking forward to. It had been years since he'd left the country; perhaps it was time for a change of scenery.

With a bracing breath, he heaved himself to his feet and began making his way down the stairs and towards his office. He smiled despite the slow descent, plans already beginning to come together in his head.

It appeared he had his own letter to write.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a part of an anonymous fest and the creator will be revealed no later than March 30. Please comment here or at [our community on Dreamwidth.](https://hp-goldenage.dreamwidth.org/69051.html) Thanks! ♥


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